Immortan
by vonBoomslang
Summary: After Joe; After the Ride East; After death itself. Those that lived, and those who live again. - A look at a world after the events of Fury Road by way of loosely linked stories. Contains worrying amounts of non-romantic, post-mortem fluff.


For a moment, he saw.

For just a moment, Mutt saw everything.

He saw, to his left, that armored giant, the Battle Bus, smoke billowing from its pipes and dust from under its wheels. He saw the scratches and harpoons marring its thick hide. He saw that window panel that had been torn loose, and behind it, those frightened refugees, dozens of them, slaves until just hours ago, but by the Imperator's will never again. He saw his fellow War Boys, in the windows and the battlements, pointing, and staring, and shouting, at him, all at him.

And he saw, before him, that crude raider car, its hood covered in spikes and explosives, its front bearing on the bus, its wounded driver laughing, a lit flare in his hand and madness in his eyes.

And he knew it was a stupid plan, and that Chain would have had a smarter one, a better one, but Chain was dead, in the seat to his right, the light gone from his eyes and the blood from his veins, one side of his neck gone, just gone. Chain had been the smart one. Chain had been the smart one and the brave one and the driver, but now he was dead and his Lancer had to drive and he saw.

He saw his hands, bony white not from paint but from being clenched on the wheel, pulling it to the right. He saw the raider's head jerk when he rammed into his side, throwing him off course just enough. He saw his own reflection in the dislodged mirror, and his dry lips whispering a word, just two words, like an old prayer.

He saw the flare fall from the raider's hand, and a moment later, he saw nothing but fire.

The world went hot, then cold, then silent, then loud again.

He heard the explosion and his eyes flew open. There was a silver cloud in the sky, dissipating slowly. And somehow, he recognized it and rose, eyes following the smoke trail down and down until he saw the woman, wrapped up and masked, a flaregun by her side and a storm of black hair on her head. And behind here, the wreck of a car, no, two cars, and no matter how burnt and twisted, he recognized one.

"Chain!" He yelled and leapt to his feet, running, out of breath and on all fours when his footing gave out. But he reached the wreck and looked inside and his heart sank. He was not there, no body in that seat, not even a scrap of clothing, not in the car, not anywhere.

"Chain!" He called out again, voice hoarse, desperately looking through the wreckage.

"He's already waiting on you!" Came a voice, but it wasn't the woman's. Mutt wheeled around and he saw. There stood a Pursuit Vehicle, one he had never seen before, as he would definitely remembered those sleek lines and menacing trophies. And in the Lancer's perch was a War Boy, scrawny as they went, leaning his elbows on the hood and smiling.

"Wh- where?!" Mutt demanded, and the other War Boy laughed. With those lip scars and the sacred icon across his chest, he seemed strangely familiar, as if Mutt had seen him before, maybe back when he was himself a War Pup, back when there was white paint and the mad Immortan.

"At the end of the road!" He finally answered, and before Mutt could ask, he gestured. He turned, and once more, he saw. There was the woman, now sitting astride a dirt bike, and behind her, shimmering like a mirage, there stood groups, warbands, legions of War Boys, on bikes, cars, rigs, their hands raised, their heads bowed, their fingers interlocked. And they chanted. And behind them, a road, not dirt, not even earth, but asphalt, black and wide, rising up onto pillars of stone, trailing away towards the horizon.

There was a slam and Mutt turned again, to where the War Boy banged on the car's roof again. "You coming?" He called out, and Mutt found himself with a dozen questions but with his eyes on the car and his legs moving. He fell into the seat and no sooner he saw the empty steering column a wheel had been thrust into his hands, and it was like none he had seen before. He would have remembered one so similar to his own scars.

He looked up, only to see the other War Boy smiling. It was such a strange expression. So.. serene. "Where does the road lead?" He asked, hands mounting the wheel and hitting the ignition of their own will. The engine roared to life, and it was the most beautiful sound Mutt had ever heard.

"Where do you think?" The War Boy looked off into the distance, past the horizon, and for a moment he seemed… radiant. Ethereal. Immortal. "Valhalla!"

And they raised their hands, and made the sign of V8, and burned his body, and named him Immortan. And Mutt rode eternal, shiny and chrome.


End file.
